


Riparian Exercises

by allyoops



Category: Original Work
Genre: Aggressive Gender Essentialism, Crying, F/M, First Time, Light Religious Imagery and Themes, Maledom/Femsub, Older Man/Younger Woman, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Spanking, Submission, Vaginal Fingering, Victorian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-20 10:43:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13715988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allyoops/pseuds/allyoops
Summary: Reverend Eccles has waited many years for this. He's confident his dear Sophia will get used to the idea eventually, and if she doesn't . . . well, a man has needs. It's hardly his wife's place to refuse.





	Riparian Exercises

**Author's Note:**

  * For [praxyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/praxyn/gifts).



> I was paging through the requests for this exchange and yours was just too tempting to pass up! Hope this is something like you had in mind for these pairings.

It was an act of no mean charity that Reverend Paul Eccles consented to offer his ward the protection not only of his home, but his name as well. Of course that was Mr. Eccles to the ground. He was a most correct man, given to kind gestures, and while it might have been less than seemly to offer marriage if Miss Garrett had brought nothing to the match but her youth and pretty face, the fact that she had some small dowry attached to her made it quite appropriate for her much elder guardian to declare himself the only suitable candidate for her husband.

What Sophia Garrett herself thought of this, nobody thought to ask. Even Mr. Eccles himself only mentioned it to her in a very offhand fashion one morning, when Sophia came in from arranging flowers in the vestry.

“I have decided we will wed,” he informed her. “Naturally there must be some fuss about a gown and formalities of legal settlements, but I don’t anticipate any great difficulty. There is no reason you should not be my wife before summer is upon us.”

Then he retired to his study to prepare the sermon, leaving Miss Garrett to contemplate her betrothal in whatever manner suited her.

She had known she must marry. She had been given to understand, both by scraps of gossip and the rather more blunt remarks of the daily char, that she had a pretty face and lovely flaxen hair, both of which would be assets in her search for a husband. Certainly her manner was of that retiring, modest sort that men seemed to appreciate. But she had not dreamed her husband would be a man so much her senior as Mr. Eccles, who had at least thirty years to her eighteen. And while the Reverend was possibly not unattractive, being very trim of figure, boasting a head of dark hair dusted with silver at the temples and possessed of all his original teeth, neither was he at all the sort of gentle, romantic figure a girl Sophia’s age secretly dreamed of. He was brusque and rather forgetful of her. The greatest part of the attention he paid came in the form of domestic instruction; prior to that it had been enquiries after the lessons she had learned at the local school until the day she left her studies to take up keeping the vicarage for her guardian.

But Sophia had been taught never to make trouble or put her own views forward on any subject, and so she found herself borne along to marriage just as surely as summer follows spring. Her new gowns—three, all very suitable in cut and colour for a modest vicar’s wife—were arranged by some kindly older women in the parish, and new nightclothes were provided as well, which raised such a dainty blush to her cheek that Mrs. Phillpotts, spying it, said with some alarm to Mrs. Callender that somebody had better take the girl in hand and give her some gentle preparation for the duties that would befall her.

“For no mother has she,” fretted Mrs. Phillpotts, “and very unsettling it would be to a young girl to find herself closed in a bedchamber with her husband expecting his due, and she no notion of how to give it to him.”

“Now, now,” murmured Mrs. Callender, “I am sure we can trust the Vicar to be sensitive to the situation. Perhaps he will engage a woman to perform the necessary office of explanation; in any event, I don’t imagine at his stage of life he will make many demands of the girl.”

“Never have I known a man could resist flesh still firm enough to spring up under his hand,” said Mrs. Phillpotts darkly, and it would prove she had the right of it, though of course neither of them would ever have occasion to know it.

Reverend and Mrs. Eccles were joined in holy union at the end of June, and promptly went away to the lake district, where they engaged a small cottage and a daily woman to see to their rougher needs.

The first night after their arrival both were so wrung out from travel that Mr. Eccles made no demands on his bride save a few kisses rather more masterful than she had expected, leaving her breathless and uneasy at their conclusion, but determined to bear up under this peculiar masculine attention as obediently as she had borne his other, less carnal demands in the course of her life.

The following day they went out to picnic in a secluded spot by the river, and it was here that Sophia was destined to be initiated into the full rites of womanhood, though with none of the respect or tenderness due her innocence that Mrs. Callender had imagined she would be accorded.

Mr. Eccles was, in his every view, very much of the old school. Whatever the school, you could be assured his views were of the oldest available, and so in the conduct of a husband toward his wife he held that the former was to be accorded every whim and wish expressed to the latter, and no refusal of any kind was to be countenanced.

Naturally he had not raised Sophia in a manner that would cause her much surprise at having this explained to her, but he had raised her very modestly indeed, so even allowing for the sort of general comprehension gained by osmosis when one lived in a village near farmland, the more detailed necessaries of her performance as a wife could not but come as a shock to her.

So when Mr. Eccles laid hold of her person and bore her down to the bank of the river with minimal ceremony, Sophia could be pardoned her shriek and struggle. There was nothing rebellious in her spirit; she was simply reacting to this violation of her previously-guarded virtue, and Mr. Eccles, though he did not appreciate her resistance, forbore to discipline her for it.

“Come now, my dear,” he said impatiently, fumbling with her skirts and forcing a hand up between her thighs, “don’t cause me to be cross with you. If you will subdue yourself according to my will, all will transpire as designed and you may suffer very little.”

Sophia, who had previously entertained no notion that an ordinary marital state required much suffering on the part of the wife, save perhaps for those unhappy creatures tied to drunkards or philanderers, had to accustom her thoughts very quickly. This was challenging, given that she had been forced into a prone position by the weight of her husband’s body and his hands were at that moment prising apart her legs as though he had every right to the secrets between them.

“Oh!” she gasped. “Mr. Eccles, what are you doing? Surely this cannot be right!”

Mr. Eccles, who did not enjoy having his authority questioned even by the Archdeacon, was not about to brook such insolence from his little wife.

“It is right if I say it is,” he warned thunderously, and Sophia stared up in great horror at his shadowy figure, backlit by the morning sun, as though judgement were raining down from on high. Certainly it was his most dire sermonising voice that he used, and it caused her to quail horribly beneath him.

“Can you pretend ignorance of your position? You are my wife now, and my will should be unto you as law.”

Of course he was right. But Sophia had not imagined his headship of her would extend from the usual sort of thing—menus, mealtimes, her conduct and dress—to anything like this.

She was acutely aware of his fingers. Long, cold scholar’s fingers probed at the secret warmth between her thighs. He squeezed and tweaked the flesh there until her eyes filled with tears and she desired very much that he should cease groping her.

“Please sir,” she wept, “you are causing me shame.”

“Nonsense,” he huffed. He had her skirts rucked up now and was admiring the sweet pale flesh of her thighs, already colouring up beautifully with the blushes of abuse that masculine appetite had visited on them. These creamy, pink-splotched limbs, when forced apart, becomingly framed a delightful little bed of golden-brown curls that cast in coquettish partial obscurement the virginal folds of a most perfect pink treasure within.

“There,” he sighed, and probed her secrets with possessive interest. “There, you see? This is where a husband seeks his fulfillment. It is your duty to yield to me in this, as in all other things. You understand?”

Sophia very much did not understand any of this. She peered fearfully over the grass-soiled fabric of her skirt at the look of hungry entitlement on his face. She had never seen him look thus and it quite terrified her, though of course, he must be right. She must be expected to give him whatever he demanded, though she did not imagine how she could give him _that_.

He was not long in instructing her.

His fingers, which had not ceased their proprietary examination of all she kept most private, plunged farther in, parting and penetrating her in a manner she would never have dreamed possible. One moment he was touching her, the next he was _there_. Inside her. His fingers, long, slim, relentless, stroked into the moist velvet of her centre and she yelped piteously, hardly comprehending how this had even come to pass.

“What . . . what are . . .”

“Hush now,” he said irritably. “I do not need to hear your prattle. You may thank me kindly for my exercise of these rights, if you wish, but I will take a dim view of any further protest. You need only accept that this is all quite proper, and I am doing right by you as your husband. Do you understand my will in this matter?”

Of course she could not contradict him. Certainly not when he used that tone. So Sophia whimpered through the words he dragged from her:

“Yes, Sir. Thank you for . . .  for exercising your headship over me.”

He nodded, satisfied there would be no more unnecessary interruption, and lowered himself onto the grass between her legs.

His fingers continued the terrible trespass, parting her almost cruelly, as if he desired to see into the very centre of her person. He stretched her this way and that, first with two fingers, then three. They plumbed the silken depths of her sweet treasures, and if she could have seen his face in that moment she would have been frightened indeed, for his was the transparent hunger of a man who has not only been briefly denied his banquet, but that of a man who has been anticipating this meal for years.

“You have a dear little cunt, my sweet wife,” he crooned, and bestowed tender kisses thereon, heedless of Sophia’s mortification. “Did you know it? Such a tender little morsel. I could eat it right up. It is as fresh and downy as a peach. And all these years you have kept it safe for me; your virtue will not go unrewarded, as you will discover when I taste of it.”

He lapped greedily at the dear cuntlips, the first trespasser on foreign shores. Sophia laid stiff and panicked beneath the attentions, and after some moments became uneasily aware of another sensation, even more foreign than her husband’s mouth violating her cunt. This one started as a strange flutter in her belly, then moved south to join with her husband’s lips at the very front of her violated modesty.

“Oh!” she cried, and clutched at his head, suddenly heedless of her own shame as the new sensation overtook her. It rolled up all through her, quite as relentless as her husband’s attentions though infinitely more welcome. She was awash head to toe with something otherworldly and divine, unbearable in its intensity, and for a moment knew almost nothing at all.

When she came to herself on the riverbank, her breast heaved in shallow bewilderment and her husband smiled gloatingly down at his conquest.

“There,” he said, “you see, you are not quite the innocent you like to imagine yourself. No woman wants much coaxing to revert to Eve in the garden. Now come along my dear, I have been very patient with your schoolroom blushes, but it’s high time we made a woman of you.”

Sophia did not even dare ask what such a transformation entailed. She was sorely tempted to cover her face but suspected this would provoke another scolding, and she did not desire to displease Mr. Eccles. Not only had he been her guardian for so many years, but he was also her husband, and of course it was her duty to bring him comfort. If this act he was preparing to embark upon would have that effect, she had no desire to hinder it.

“Spread your legs my dear; wider, yes, that’s it,” he nodded approvingly as dear Sophia made an earnest effort to obey, inviting the gentle river breezes to ruffle the soft curls which shielded her sex from the indignity of exposure. Mr. Eccles smiled in pleasure at her humble offering; her unhesitating obedience to instruction, such prompt acquiescence as he would have demanded of her many dozens of times a week in her daily life before their marriage.

Her training did not play her false now, and her compliance with his edict did his heart good to see.

“Oh very good. Now here, you see,” he nudged his finger against the entrance to her cunt, “is where a woman’s husband gains admission to your body. You may find it strange or unpleasant, but that has no bearing on how you are beholden to receive him. When I desire your body you are to yield it cheerfully, as often as I require. You understand?”

“Yes, Sir,” Sophia whispered. She did her best to keep her legs spread, too, though his fingers were questing dreadfully again, probing, piercing her flesh and tweaking the tender little bud at the top of her sex which had so recently given her untold pleasure. A new tenderness made this attention almost unbearable in the sensation it caused in her, but she would not for the world have angered him by saying so.

She bit her lower lip, her eyes welled up with fresh tears and she resolved to endure.

“Now, a gentleman may take his pleasure from a maid in any way he prefers, but you will find that your husband prefers to act as God intended, and master you with his cock.” So saying, he freed his own from the decency of his breeches so that it sprang free, bobbing full and thick in the sunlight. “Come now dear, look upon it. You will become quite familiar with it soon. I daresay you may even grow fond of it.”

Sophia, peering fearfully at the lewd spectacle of her husband’s virility, impossibly large and menacing as it stood up before her, did not see how she could ever come to regard it with fondness. But her husband expected it, and so clearly she must find a way.

“I hope I shall,” she whispered dutifully.

“Now see here, I shall place it like so.” He aligned the blunt head with the place where his fingers had so recently been exploring. “You see why it was necessary that you should spend before I entered? This wetness shall give you some relief from what must come to pass, although not, I shall tell you frankly, enough to make it entirely easy. You are a very little woman, Sophia, and I must only remind you of the duty of obedience you owe me, for I fear some rebellion may seize you at first penetration and you may endeavour to escape your discomfort.”

Sophia, who was now nearly witless with terror at this horrible declaration, nevertheless feared her husband’s displeasure with her conduct even above the mysterious threat that loomed.

“Pray do not think it of me, sir,” she begged. “I shall strive to be good and yielding to you in this as in all things. If—if my ignorance does cause me rebellion, I entreat you to believe it is only temporary. For surely my education at your hands in this matter will be as thorough as any wife could ever wish.”

This speech very much charmed Mr. Eccles. He saw in his wife’s fearful grey gaze the very real sincerity of a well-brought-up girl who understood her purpose lay in obedience, and he knew that her attempts to submission would be sincere, even if she did falter in her willingness at first.

“There now my dear,” he said kindly, “that was a fine thought, and very prettily expressed. I am bound to admit I do not fear you shall long rebel against my will, as I have seen all through your girlhood every proof of feminine submission such as any man would be pleased to behold in his wife. I do not mind telling you that I have tested for many years your compliance, and have found you in no serious way lacking. I am sure that the same sweet temper and perfect obedience you always bore me as my ward will be no less evinced in my wife.”

Sophia was much gratified by this expression of his faith in her. She resolved that no matter how this strange married congress might frighten or offend her sensibilities, she would give her husband no cause to find her displeasing.

She nodded timidly and—his heart warmed at the sight—even attempted to offer a smile.

“Thank you, sir. I shall conduct myself in accordance with your will.”

“Excellent. Look now, my dear, on the point of what will be our union. You see how ready I have made you? How fit your cunt is to receive my cock?”

He drew the cockhead back a moment that Sophia, trembling, could behold the glistening juices that wet the head. “You were made to receive me in this manner. You see? This is all very right and good, and you must not shrink from it.”

Sophia nodded. She was greatly afraid, but resolved he should not know it.

“Yes of course, Mr. Eccles, I see that now.”

“There’s a good girl. Now I do think it would be very right and good if you were to make a little kiss just here, on the head of my cock. It should give me pleasure to see you enjoy it and welcome it in this manner.”

Poor Sophia hardly knew what to do. The idea of putting her mouth to that _object_ was repellent, but refusal was not an option. She screwed her eyes tight shut and leaned in to dust the velvety head with a soft, fleeting kiss.

“Now, now,” scolded her husband, “that won’t do at all. I intend you should receive me with a proper kiss, Sophia. And you must look at me as you do it.”

So Sophia raised eyes flooded with tears of humiliation to her husband as she pressed a warmer, wetter kiss to the same place. To her shock the thing moved! Twitched under her caress, as if alive! She leaped back in alarm.

“Oh!” she cried. “Oh, what happened?”

“I will have none of this missishness,” her husband sighed. “That was simply the effect of engorgement acting upon it. You have caused me pleasure and should be flattered to know it. Come now dear, I tire of this false modesty. I think you have earned a chastisement. Lie you down on your stomach, and I will beat from you whatever base desire has enjoined you to play at reluctance in the face of my demands on you.”

Sophia, blushing with shame at her rebellion as much as her exposure to the elements, arranged herself on the bank at his instruction.

“Yes, raise your skirt and draw your knees up beneath you—there! Very good.”

She knelt with her bared bottom raised to the warm sun, her skirt puddling down around her elbows, and suffered six sharp slaps on each plump buttock. She cried out only at the last two, poor girl, which measure of self-restraint earned her a gentle tickle on the exposed fuzz of her cleft.

“Very good my dear. I would not have liked it if you carried on wailing. Now, I am so taken with the sight of you in this position, I have it in mind that this has been ordained to be the moment of our first union. You must brace your palms very firmly on the grass just so, and whatever discomfort you suffer, I warn you I shall take a dim view of any resistance.”

Poor Sophia hardly knew what to say. She scarcely desired to submit herself to him in this posture, which was too like the congress of village dogs to feel seemly. But her husband willed it, and Sophia had committed herself to perfect submission, so she sank forward onto her elbows in a very pretty little bow, arching her back and delivering her dear bottom directly into the care of her husband, who was greatly pleased with the result.

“Yes, yes, just so,” he panted, feverishly repositioning himself so that his cock again nudged hungrily at the sweet honey of the cunt which had been too long denied it. Sophia gasped, feeling the nearness of completion, and that gentle little sound of muted horror heated his blood to a fever pitch.

A hazy collection of memories tumbled through the eye of the vicar’s mind, this same pretty little body at various stages of its development, always just out of reach until he had been blessed with the great foresight to bind it to his own in the most sanctified and unobjectionable manner. Now its every rapture was reserved for his exclusive enjoyment. He gloried in the very rightness of it, his patience at last fulfilled by the perfection of his ward-turned-wife’s fearful but ultimately full submission to his will.

His cock surged greedily against her entrance and Mr. Eccles, transported, thrust in.

Poor Sophia! Her instinct was to rebel. The violation was beyond any maiden’s ability to bear with perfect sanguinity, but she did struggle valiantly to comply. Undeniably, she wept. Thankfully her husband understood the reason, for the discomfort of such assault cannot be denied any more than a husband’s ultimate victory in such matters. Her sweet little cunt was speared unforgivably by something heavy and masculine beyond her comprehension.

She did, to her shame, even surge forward a little as her body’s instinct to escape won out, but mercifully her husband had prepared himself for this willfulness. He took her firmly in hand and clutched both of her hips in a grip so punishingly cruel that the pain woke her to the shame of her own rebellion. She repented of it immediately, and terror was eclipsed by training.

She would not fail him in this! Her husband had made his desire plain and she could not refuse him. Tears flowed freely down her face but she, brave girl, braced herself against the marital necessity and even, in a moment of truly admirable feminine submission, bore back down against the monstrous invasion of her husband’s cock, valiantly forcing her own body to accept what seemed far beyond its ability to accommodate.

Mr. Eccles nearly lost control of himself in that moment. The hot, tight welcome of his wife’s virgin cunt was more than many strong men could have stood out against; there would have been no shame in his spending then and there, not even halfway buried in the sweet recess of his sobbing Sophia, who struggled to acclimate herself mentally to her newfound ascension from virgin to wife. But Mr. Eccles had for years dreamed of and planned for this moment, and he was not about to waste it now. With great expression of will he brought himself under control again, and began the rough, rude, necessary process of completing his wife’s defloration.

This, for Sophia, was by far the worst part. He rocked into her again and again and again, and each time she told herself there must be no farther he could go, only to discover she had been wrong. Her belly was gorged and displaced by the size of the _thing_ that surged within her. She seemed possessed of limitless depths meant to receive his cock, but they could not be got at save by brutal force. The enormity of him gave her terror, so that she half feared he must advance up within her until she choked from inside on the end of his maleness. But Mr. Eccles was very patient with her weeping, and did not scold her until it reached something very like hysteria. Even then, he only delivered a sharp crack of remonstrance to the fleshiest part of her thigh. He admired the scarlet outline of his hand on her flesh, and this gesture of his mastery was met with her silence.

“There,” he said, almost kindly. “I know it must be a little bad for you, my dear, but this is far from the last time you will satisfy me in this manner, so it is better you should accept it properly the first time. That way you shall understand how to conduct yourself hereafter.”

Sophia saw, with a kind of glazed dismay, the truth of all he said. Yes of course, men and wives did this regularly. She would be obliged to give him this satisfaction many, many hundreds if not thousands of times over the course of their married life together. He would avail himself of her cunt whenever it pleased him, and she, because she desired to make him a virtuous and pleasant wife, would naturally acquiesce without complaint.

It seemed—oh! Impossible! How could she? The sheer size of him was horrible. She was drawn back, impaled on his cock, helpless and thoroughly conquered by it. However could she hope to approach this task with the type of pleasant submission Mr. Eccles would surely expect of a virtuous wife?

In her desperation she cried out this very question to him. To the credit of his good nature, Mr. Eccles forbore to scold or scorn her. Instead he stroked the ripe swells of her buttocks with every appearance of comfort and understanding.

“Oh but my dear, as we continue in this manner it will become less of a trial for you to bear. You will learn to accommodate me better, and perhaps, as your submission becomes more wholehearted, your good little cunt will even learn the enjoyment that comes to women as a reward for accepting this feminine completion. Here; let me demonstrate.”

And so saying he began the dreadful thrusting again, the brutal rutting against her, into her, so that the stretch and stuffing of her cunt were all she could think of, until she could think of not even that . . .

But oh! There, creeping in on the edge of her domination, came the feeling again. The sweet building edge of pleasure, as her husband reached around and masterfully manipulated the precious little bud of her sex, so that even the horror of penetration, the pain given her by the size of him, seemed to slip and fade away in the face of the advancing wave . . .

Poor Sophia had not spent once before in her life, and now came the second such rapture in one day. No wonder the poor girl’s frame was unequal to the task! She collapsed, limp and moaning, as the beautiful reward overtook her. Her cunt spasmed and fluttered in panicked gratitude. It clenched and contracted in humble acceptance of its lot: the cock it contained, and all that Sophia’s future marriage bed held in store.

Kindly, patiently, her husband held her up, keeping her impaled on his cock, and fucked her almost brutally through the second crest well into a third.

As the third orgasm took Sophia, who was by now nearly insensate in the face of her own womanhood, Mr. Eccles completed his use of her. He fell forward with a low grunt, spending a husband’s gift deep in the conquered citadel of his wife’s feminine virtue.

Sophia lay pinned, dazed, face down on the bank as her husband availed himself of his rights. She could almost not breathe at all, and yet her cunt was so ravaged by the twin gifts of pain and pleasure, she almost could not care. Still she lay there, gasping, helpless, as he finally withdrew and rolled off her.

The sight she made then! Nobody who had met her would have known her for herself. Her pretty dress was marred with stains of green and brown. Her bare bottom, well-marked by her husband’s discipline, was red and pink and white, all blotchy and prettily abused. From between the plump cheeks of her bottom peeked those poor, mortified cuntlips, and from them trickled the proof of the satisfaction her husband had sought in the plundered depths of her.

“Ahh, my dear,” Mr. Eccles said, much pleased by this vista of well-used bride, “what a fine day it has been, do you not agree?”

Sophia scarcely had the breath to groan. Mr. Eccles smiled indulgently.

“And just think! We’ve many hours of daylight left to us yet. Only imagine how much more pleasure you yet have time to give me.”

I do not know where she found the strength, but Sophia raised her head from the bank and mustered a faint, feeble smile for the sole benefit of her lord and master.

“Y-yes sir,” she murmured. “Of course I—I delight myself in your pleasure. When—” her voice wobbled and tears threatened, but they did not break through.

“When shall we start?”


End file.
